Diving Or Rising?
by Muriel Candytuft
Summary: While indentured to a ship chandlery, Jim meets the very people and adventures he'd given up on. [My first TP fic!][Chapter 4 UP!]
1. Prologue: Becalmed

Diving or Rising?

A/N: Hey, folks, it's Muriel! This is my first Treasure Planet fic (the bulk of my work is under C.S. Lewis, and I have one credit in Ratchet and Clank). I may or may not correctly remember details from the movie, so all corrections are welcome! That said, here we go.

Prologue: Becalmed

After I told Mom about all I'd experienced on my voyage to Treasure Planet, she nodded with satisfaction, figuring my passion for adventure was now dulled.

She was dead wrong. If anything, now it was sharpened.

After a while, I remembered what Captain Amelia had said as we were approaching the Crescentia Spaceport: "I'll have to recommend you to the Interstellar Academy."

Then I finally knew what I wanted.

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"Absolutely not." Mom turned her back on me, signaling that the matter was closed.

I wasn't going to give up that easily. "Mom, come on. It's only four years--"

"Only!" she shouted. I winced, knowing every person in the Admiral Benbow Inn could hear her. Why couldn't the woman lower her voice once in a while?

"_Only _four years, and it's not like it's another voyage or anything. It's school. It's the Interstellar Academy. That's all."

"The Interstellar Academy," Mom snapped, stressing each word, "is two lightyears away from here. It'd be almost impossible to contact you. Not to mention the moral atmosphere--"

Moral atmosphere. Oh, how I hated those words. "What? Come on--"

"There's drugs, there's self-mutilation--"

I stepped in front of Mom. "I'm not into that crap," I promised her.

She plunked down angrily at the kitchen table. "But why there, of all places?"

My answer was simple. "I want to be a spacer. A full-time spacer."

Mom looked as though I'd just revealed my darkest death wish. I quickly added, "I could do worse."

"And you could do better!" Mom cried, flinging her hands down on the table. "I mean, they're giving out scholarships for Cambria Technical University."

Cambria Tech is where Dr. Doppler went to school. No thank you.

"That's not for me."

"Do I care?" Mom glared at me. "Jim, listen--your father was a spacer. Do you want to end up like him?"

I looked away.

"He was depraved. I tried to show him that life is just as good here, if not better, than life always lost in space." Mom rested her head on one hand and spoke tiredly. "But he wouldn't listen. He left me. Now, what if you do the same?"

"Mom, I wouldn't--"

She talked over me. "What if you got married and then decided you preferred life in space? I _will not_ allow you to cause a fellow human as much grief as your father did me."

I sat across from her, outraged that she thought me capable of sinking to my father's level. Yet I tried to keep my voice calm. "I'm not like Dad."

"Yes, you are!" Mom finally exploded. "You're both impulsive and reckless and completely enslaved by this--this _obsession_ with sailing."

"I'm not enslaved," I answered quietly. "Sailing sets me free."

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But Mom wouldn't have that.

So she got me apprenticed in Barnes and Hodges's Ship Chandlery.

For nine years.

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Well? Any opinions? Please review!


	2. Breaking Orbit

Chapter 1--Breaking Orbit

A/N: Let's hear it for ILuvHim, our first reviewer! (blows on a party favour thingy) In response to the other reviewer, yeah, Mrs. Hawkins could be a little OOC--but this is as Jim sees her, not necessarily as she actually is. Anyhoo, here's chapter one. (blows on party favour thingy again)

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All right, I thought, so working at a chandlery isn't all that hard. Just get the customers' stuff and mop the floors. Easy, right?

Wrong.

It was get customers' stuff, mop the floors, and a boatload of other stuff I wish I could forget.

For one thing, some of the customers were evil. They believed that if you didn't give them the exact item they wanted, at the price they wanted it, and in the right colour, the world would blow up. I knew they'd been shopping there for years and they deserved to get their orders, but they could've been less pushy about it.

Swabbing the deck of the R.L.S. _Legacy_ was tons easier than mopping the floor of Barnes and Hodges's Ship Chandlery. What never ceased to amaze me was that the water Mr. Hodges had me mop with was dirty. I would think, "Oh, yeah, dirty water! That's gonna make the floor _sparkle_!" But I couldn't say that out loud; when you're an apprentice, you don't smart-mouth your master.

Then I found out about the hidden clause in my indenture--bookkeeping, which involved math.

Suffice it to say that words couldn't describe how I loathed math.

What wasn't so bad was when Mr. Hodges sent me to Halyard's Tavern every day to pick up our supper. While I waited for them to finish our orders, I watched ships dock at the Montressor Spaceport. Maybe that wasn't so smart; I always came back to the chandlery more determined than ever to get away from my indenture.

At night, Mr. Hodges would lock up the chandlery and go to his own home. This pretty much made me security guard, since I lived in a loft above the chandlery.

I had my clothes, some books, and about twenty dozen boxes of candles in my loft. It was actually a nice place--quiet, free of evil customers. A skylight was just above my bed, so I would go to sleep staring at the stars, wishing I could be among them.

But that would have to wait nine years.

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I know, many people have worked quite contentedly in one place for almost thirty years. I, however, am not like those people. After two years at Barnes and Hodges, I was sick of my indenture.

And I was sick of Mr. Hodges, too. He had already shouted at me four times for a "mistake" in the record book I'd been scratching in all morning. I tried to be patient as I showed him that they weren't mistakes, but places where the ink dried in my quill. Mr. Hodges just snorted, like he always did when proved wrong, and I went to the front of the chandlery to take a customer's order.

Mrs. Dunwiddie came in at one point and ordered eight thrirty-foot lengths of rope. (Lord knows what she was going to do with them.) Just as I'd asked her to excuse me while I looked for the ropes in the back, Mr. Hodges slammed the record book open with a papery snap and trumpeted, "JAMES! Another mistake in the records!"

I sighed and looked over his shoulder at the records. This time, I really had made a mistake. "Sorry."

"Well, sorry doesn't fix it if I overcharge someone! Pay attention to detail; stop making mistakes!"

My patience worn to the thickness of an onion skin, I shouted back, "_One mistake is not going to kill us all_!"

"Oh, really?" Mr. Hodges grabbed a quill and scratched out the price I had written, but his dirty glare didn't leave me. "Well, that's the kind of attitude I can expect from a _teenager_."

Before I could snap back, Mrs. Dunwiddie sang from the counter, "Mr. Hawkinnnnns! Myyyyy rooooopes!"

"Yeah, coming right up," I called back, and I threaded my way through the chandlery to the back room, clenching my fists.

The back room was almost impossible to completely enter, as it was crammed with stuff. Stacks of wooden crates towered to the low ceiling, smelling like tar and mold. And with the luck I was having today, the ropes were probably buried under those crates in a back corner of the room. Grunting with annoyance, I pushed some crates out of my way.

A pair of blue lights popped up from behind the other crates, flashing in my face. "JIMMY!" a mechanical voice blurted out.

I yelped, stumbling backwards. As I landed on my rear, a skinny copper robot bounced over the crates and grabbed my hand.

"Holy mackerel! Glad I caught you here, Jimmy!" the robot shrieked, tugging me to my feet. "Break out the party favours, because today's your big day!"

I snatched my hand away. "B.E.N., what are you talking about?"

"Your big day!" The Bio Electronic Navigator emphasized those words by blinking a picture of falling confetti on his eyes. "You're bustin' out of your little cage! You're going to SEIZE YOUR FREEDOM!"

"No thank you," I said simply as I started pushing through crates again.

B.E.N. deflated. "But--but I thought you wanted to leave..."

"Look, I do, okay? I'd like nothing better. But I _can't _just waltz out of here."

"Why not?"

I ripped a paper out of my pocket--a page from the _Montressor Gazette--_and waved it in front of him. "Read this."

B.E.N. grabbed the paper and made a great show of reading it, stuttering when there were too many letters in a word. "Hmm...'Thirty dollars reward...ran away from subscriber...indented apprentice...all persons are forbid harbouring or trusting said runaway..."

"Don't you get it?" I sighed, sitting down on a crate. "Even if I could get out of here, eventually someone would catch me and drag me back here--not to mention Mr. Hodges would kill me."

B.E.N. dropped the paper and stared at me.

"Now, you should just go home. I've got work to do."

"Well...okay...if you're sure you want to stay here..." With that, B.E.N. crouched on his wheels and rolled slowly away.

I wasn't sure I wanted to stay--but what were my other options?

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Late at night, I was still awake. I lay on my back, staring up at the skylight and thinking about my options.

One: Wait out the last seven years of my apprenticeship and endanger my sanity.

Two: Try to run away and get my butt whupped, after which I'd wait out the last seven years and endager my sanity.

Was there an option that didn't involve insanity or butt-whupping?

I closed my eyes. When I opened them, I saw through the skylight one of the most fascinating things I've ever seen

For a few months now, Comet Beckett had been trapped in orbit around the planet Acceleranda. Some of Montressor's scientists, observing the comet, predicted that it would eventually break orbit--and now it did. Blazing crystals of ice shot from the comet, and bounced off Montressor's atmosphere. Comet Beckett, glowing brilliantly, spun away from Acceleranda and into the blackness of outer space.

As the comet soared away, I closed my eyes again, trying to fix that image into my memory.

I remembered my dreams of enrolling in the Academy.

I decided it was time to follow Beckett's example.

Time to break orbit.

I tumbled out of bed and snatched my greatcoat and hat up.

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I shivered; even under my thick greatcoat, I was cold.

"I KNEW you'd come around eventually, Jimmy!" B.E.N gushed, dragging me through a dank back alley. "I knew you'd want to get off this rock soon enough! Now here we are! B.E.N. and Jimmy! Two hapless bachelors seeking to respirate our fortunes!"

"Renew," I corrected, and I stopped to face him. "Now, B.E.N., listen. I got one thing I want you to do."

"Anything! Just say the word!"

"Shut up," I replied simply, and continued walking down the alley.

B.E.N. trailed behind me. "Oh, right. Okay, I'm good at that! I'll be as silent as the grape!"

He kept babbling like this. I thought about returning to peace and quiet.

But I remembered the comet.

I kept walking.


	3. Blindsided

Chapter 2--Blindsided

A/N: Chapter 2. Ta-dah. Thanks very much to wordsofjade for the cool review!

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Thanks to B.E.N's constant goofing up, it took us the better part of a half hour to reach the wharf. Along the way, I talked little and worried much.

How was I going to get off Montressor? No captain would offer passage to a runaway apprentice, I could count on that. Well, I could always comandeer a ship--if I wanted to add to my list of laws I've broken. No thanks. I'd figure something out, I told myself. But the more I thought about it, the more I considered dragging my sorry self back to the chandlery.

I didn't even have any money. If I asked to borrow any, I'd be found out. And without money, it'd be pretty tough to get off the planet undiscovered.

I hate money.

"Eek! Agh! Uh, Jimmy--I could use a pit stop!"

I glared at B.E.N. "Now?"

B.E.N. opened his mouth to scream, but I clamped it shut. "Fine! Fine! Whatever!" I whispered. "I'll take you to Halyard's Tavern; it's a block away from here. But you _can't_ scream."

"Ho! Ye with the robot? What are ye doing skulkin' about the wharfs at this hour?" a voice hailed me from behind.

Now I was dead meat. I swore under my breath and turned around, expecting to see a guard. Instead I saw a tall, burly man, hidden in a greatcoat and tricorne hat like me. He shuffled towards me. I was relieved that he wasn't a guard, but it's still not fun to meet a mysterious man at night with no support but an inept navigation system. I shrugged at his question and walked in the opposite direction. "Going to the Tavern," I mumbled, and immediately regretted saying so.

"And is there a tavern nearby, then?" the man rasped, marching at a good clip until he caught up with me. "Well, if ye'd be so kind as to lead an old man there...I got a long overdue appointment with Lady Rum."

I gritted my teeth into a smile. "Okay."

"Lady Rum!" B.E.N. shrieked. "Now, sir, I wonder if you're aware that alcohol has cursonogenic effects--"

"Carcinogenic," I muttered to B.E.N., mentally praying he didn't upset this guy. "And that's smoking."

B.E.N. kept talking. "Yeah, what he said--now, I happen to know that Montressor has a whole slough of support groups--AGH! I'm going to wet myself! We can't get to Halyard's fast enough!"

I jammed my elbow into B.E.N.'s copper side, which probably hurt me more than him, but at least he shut up.

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For the next minutes, as we crept down the soggy roads, all I heard was the annoying sound of B.E.N.'s gears clicking and whirring. By the time we reached Halyard's Tavern, I wondered if one can die of annoyance.

As we walked into Halyard's Tavern, a healthy cloud of tobacco smoke surrounded us. The place was near empty, except for Mr. Halyard and a few men who had nothing better to do at night than sit near the windows smoking pipes for dear life. The stranger in the greatcoat thanked me and moved to the bar, ready to meet Lady Rum. I sat at a table close to the door and waited for B.E.N. to get out of the bathroom. When he came back, I said, "Man, you've got to oil your gears or something, cause you're loud."

B.E.N.'s eyes became a glowing question mark as he sat down. "Huh? I got oiled this afternoon..."

I snorted. "Yeah, right, so if it wasn't _your_ gears I was hearing on the way over here, whose were they?"

"Well..." B.E.N. stammered, still looking confused. "Maybe...the Rolling Frenchman!"

"The Rolling Frenchman?" I stared at him. "This I gotta hear."

"Well, he's...uh...he's the long-lost robotic friend of the Flying Dutchman..."

I laughed sarcastically.

"Okay, there is no Rolling Frenchman, but I swear those weren't my gears you were hearing! I mean, listen!" B.E.N. held his arm up and bent the elbow so hard that he fell out of his chair.

His gears _were_ silent.

The man in the greatcoat migrating towards our table, a frosty bottle of rum in hand. I quickly pulled the collar of my own coat up; if he was going to hide in his coat, so was I. He took a swig directly from the bottle. "Oy, that's good stuff, mate. Got a handle?"

There was no way I was telling this guy my name. I stayed silent, hoping he'd get the message.

After a minute he said, "No handle? Ah, I see. Won't introduce yerself to every man jack, eh? That's well. Means ye're smart."

"Oh, you bet," B.E.N. cut in, eyes glowing a light bulb. "Smartest chap I know."

I bit my lip, relieved that B.E.N. realized I wasn't handing my name out.

"Well, then." The stranger gulped some more rum. I could feel him staring at me. "Ye know, I don't--have we met?"

"Don't think so," I replied shortly.

He shrugged, and pushed himself away from the table, taking the rum with him.

And that stupid sound of gears turning started up again. I glared at B.E.N., who was watching the stranger plod towards the door.

"Oy, sir!" Mr. Halyard shouted from the bar. "You _will _pay for that!"

"And I will be leavin' directly," the stranger replied, a grin in his voice. He opened the door.

"Hey! Get back here!" Mr. Halyard's meaty face turned purple; he _hated_ getting gypped. "Young man!"

I stiffened as I realized he was looking at me. Still trying to keep my face hidden, I replied, "Yeah?"

"Go stop that rotter! He owes me!"

Great. I jumped out of my chair. "Come on," I snapped at B.E.N.

"I don't chase criminals!" B.E.N pleaded.

I grabbed his arm and rushed out of the Tavern, dragging him behind me. Ahead of us, under the dull light of the streetlamps, the stranger blundered slowly towards the wharf.

"We'll tackle him," I whispered to B.E.N.

He shook his metal head. "I'm weak."

"You need a better excuse than that."

"I have to go to the bathroom again!"

"Oh, like fun, you do." Still hanging on to B.E.N.'s arm, I broke into a run. He shrieked as we barreled towards the stranger. As we got closer, I threw my arms forward, ready to tackle the guy.

Just as we reached the stranger, he turned, his left hand held out. I crashed into the hand and stumbled back. B.E.N. clanged down on the cobblestones.

"And what might ye be after?" the stranger asked me as I recovered my balance. "Wishin' me to escort ye somewhere?"

I pointed at his bottle. "You didn't pay for that,"

"Because they overcharge," he snorted. "Ye want to beggar me?"

"You still have to pay for it," I ordered.

B.E.N., still laying on the ground, shook his head with an "I-told-you-so" look. "See? Lady Rum got you in a lot of trouble, mister."

The stranger let out an annoyed huff, and leaned towards me, whispering, "Now, see here, laddie--I ain't got but ten shillings on me. But I have expectations."

I stared at what little I could see of his face. "Expectations? Are you a pirate?"

"_Privateer_," the man growled. "I'm a bounty hunter, as it were. I lock pirates away, and the King pays me for it. Now, expectations are what I expect to earn from each of my little expeditions. If ye let me out of this, then I'll sell--nay, I'll _give_ ye a tenth of my expectations. Then, if my next v'yage is successful, ye get a tenth of my earnin's. Fair?"

"How much do you usually make from these...voyages?" I questioned.

The man chuckled. "I've lost count."

I was about to agree to this little plan--I needed the money, and now it looked like I had a chance to get some without being captured. But I suddenly realized--he hadn't been paid yet. Who knew how long it could take him to catch any pirates? And how was I to know he wasn't lying?

"I'm not interested," I replied shortly, and snatched his bottle away before he could react. As I turned away to march him back to the Tavern, B.E.N. suddenly jumped to his feet and pointed behind me.

"Watch it!" he shrieked.

Something hard slammed into the back of my head. I lost consciousness.


	4. Dizzy

Chapter 3--Dizzy

A/N: Well, whaddya know, chapter 3! If you're wordsofjade and you've come this far, thanks very much for sticking with me!

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I woke up uncomfortably hot. My brain felt like it would bang its way out of my head, and my lips stung. I thought I tasted blood in my mouth. My eyes were open, but I was alarmed that I couldn't move them. I breathed in heavily, and then coughed; the muggy air tasted like sweat and gunpowder. Yet I could see nothing. I was lying down, and gently swinging back and forth. Eventually I realised I was in a hammock.

Hushed voices approached me. One sounded familiar. I wanted to sit up, but exhaustion kept me lying down. Finally I saw dim candlelight and the shapes of two heads peering down at me. Still my eyes would not move; still my head ached.

"Sleepin' for twenty days since we embarked, Cap'n," one voice said. The candlelight wavered.

"Ye think? Can't expect a man to bounce t' his feet once ye've shot him in the noggin with a laser bullet. And on top of that, these quarters are filthy."

Where had I heard that voice before?

"Cap'n, for the final time, I'm sorry I shot at the lad. It just looked like he was attacking you."

"Well--he was--but not seriously," the voice named "Cap'n" protested.

The first voice and head turned towards me. "His eyes is locked, Cap'n."

"And blast if ye're gonna stand here tellin' me all what ails 'im! Get yer festerin' carcass topside an' find the doctor."

With an "Aye, Cap'n," the first head disappeared.

The other head and voice asked, "Can ye hear me, laddie?"

I'd heard this voice before. Who was it?

Oh, yeah. Lady Rum's lover. I remembered how he'd tried to lift some rum from Halyard's Tavern. So he was a captain? Huh.

"Can ye hear me?" the voice was still asking.

I barely nodded, and it felt like my neck snapped in half.

"Ah, ye're awake! That's well. Thought my idiot boatswain had killed ye. Now, I'm gonna give ye some water. Just pourin' it down yer throat, since ye don't look up to drinkin' it yerself. But don't puke on me, or I'll throw ye overboard."

Overboard? So I was on a ship.

Figures.

A tin cup touched my lips and lukewarm water flooded my mouth. Though I wasn't used to being given water that way, I drank it, and my dry mouth felt and tasted a little better. The cup pulled away, and after a long silence, the voice spoke again.

"Listen t' me--ye needn't be afraid of me or no one else. Ye're aboard the private galleon _Lotus Eater_, and we're passin' the Coral Galaxy. And once ye're on yer feet again, ye're gonna work here. Got it?"

I sighed tiredly, sinking deeper into my hammock.

Mr. Hodges would be thrilled.

"Why did you take me away from Montressor?" I demanded, but my tongue felt like stone every time I moved it.

"Somethin' told me to," the voice replied cryptically.

"Something?"

"I dunno anymore about it than ye do, lad," the "Cap'n" defended himself. "My boatswain took a shot at ye, and I took ye aboard. Better than leavin' ye t' bite the cobblestones, right?"

"I guess."

"But I can tell ye this." The voice sounded gentler now. "I also picked ye up for yer face."

I said nothing.

"A-yup. Ye reminded me of an ol' mate of mine. One James Hawkins. If I recall aright, he was born of Montressor." There was a smile in his voice. "Lad had a temper to rival Cap'n Flint, he did. But he had a heart o' gold underneath it all. Ever hear of 'im?"

For a moment I couldn't breathe.

It couldn't be.

But it was the voice.

I decided to take a chance at embarrassing myself.

"Silver?" I asked.

The voice was silent for an eternity. I thought either he hadn't heard me or I'd offended him somehow. But then two hands gently turned my head towards the light. I gritted my teeth against the light, still unable to move my eyelids--and then I jumped. The hands. One was natural, the other metallic.

"By heaven--Jimbo! It's you?"

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A/N: Sorry so short, will update soon!


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